The Penis Monologues
by goetterdamerung
Summary: The boys have a chat with... well themselves
1. Chapter 1

**The Penis Monologues **

**Chapter 1****: Arthur **

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"Prat!"

That's all I hear before the door is slammed yet again in my face. I mean you would think that being the Crown Prince of Camelot would entitle me to a few privileges, but I think I'd trade them all for one semi-decent manservant.

Sometimes it's hard being me, on the one hand there is my father and all his expectations and sometimes that can get the better of me, well anyone really, be they crofter or be they prince. I don't really mind I suppose, it kind of goes with the whole 'Prince' thing I guess... not much I can do about it either way.

Now, on the other hand I do have my pick of how, who, where and when. I mean my meals are served to me, my ale and wine poured for me. I get dressed by standing there holding my arms out while they robe me. It is a bit much sometimes, but you learn to live with it.

Even the bane of my existence, well my bane before a certain clumsy big eared, blue eyed manservant that is, Morgana has to accept my superior status regardless of how she may feel about it personally.

So why in the name of all that's true and righteous does 'he' push me so? It's not that I like seeing him in the stocks or anything, but the man just will not listen... well maybe I do like it... just a little bit.

He is infuriating, constantly questioning my authority, never obeys orders... even when I do ask nicely, well nice enough. Still, why will he not behave as all the other servants do?

Take this morning for instance, I offered him the opportunity to get to know me better whilst he was fastening my boots for me and what do I get for letting my guard down around him? Nothing, zero... zip.

Idiot, that's what he is, a bloody idiot. How hard is it to see what I was offering? I mean HELLO, he's on his knees in front of me, head at the perfect height and I'm nicely aroused... well I suppose you could say very aroused, but that's neither here nor there.

It doesn't take a genius to work out that polishing my sword does not have to involve a whet stone or shining the family jewels always requires polish and hard elbow grease.

No, all I get is the King of Clueless, the Prince of Naive... the Knave of Hearts.

So all that was left for me to do was give a practical demonstration... hey, it works with the knights.

So here I am getting ready to demonstrate the correct technique for polishing my sword when he finally gets a clue, takes one look and bolts to the other side of the room. I mean, I haven't ever received that reaction before, bit hard which way to take it... I'll just go with he was impressed and intimidated by the length and breadth of my sword... yes, that's it.

So, that brings us to the beginning of the tale, door slammed and me with a lance you could run a pennon up.

I don't think I'll ever understand the idiot, I don't think I'll ever understand him at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Penis Monologues **

**Chapter 2****: Merlin **

"Prat!"

By the 'Sidhe' that man amazes me. The bloody arrogant sophist, humph as if Arthur!

It is not as if I am asking for much here, a little respect, maybe a touch of kindness; hell I'd settle for being noticed occasionally, but no, His Royal Pain in the Backside has to try play some stupid game.

I slave away all day cleaning, polishing, mending, everything 'ing and what do I get?

Nothing, zip, zilch. I'm telling you, no more, I've had it. Bloody dragon has no idea of what he is talking about; destiny, double sided coins; well I've had enough.

I'm supposed to be the Mighty Emrys, I have more power in my thumb than Uther has over Albion and yet what am I doing... oh yeah, bloody cleaning, polishing, mending.

The silly bugger should try walk a mile in my, granted not anyway as nearly well made, boots. Hell, then he'd see what regular people have to put up with... let alone hard done by junior sorcerers. Christea Tighera! I'd be better off living with Mordred's kin; at least there I can practise my magic, hell there I could save anyone and get an honest thank you for my troubles.

Speaking of saving... how many times have I pulled his chestnuts out of the fire?

Whoa, mental image there, maybe I should focus a little more on other sorts of nuts for a bit...

Nope, no good.

Well, it's not my fault his Royal Pratiness could also double as a 'Ye Olde ChippenDaleus' performer.

Hmmmm, no, not helping matters here at all, I'm supposed to be righteously indignant here, not bloody daydreaming.

Where was I? Oh, yes.

Such an infantile attempt on a word play, I mean, please; polishing his sword?

More like a table dirk, well maybe a dagger.

Bugger it... ok, ok a great bloody broad sword; happy now? Anyway, it makes no difference how large an... arsenal the Prat possesses, trying to trick me using stupid, juvenile references is NOT going to get me to... um, polish his sword.

If he wants me to do that, then he'll have to bloody well treat me right for a change.

Hmmm, that didn't come out as well as I wanted it to.

Let's try that again, he'll have to wine and dine me, respect me, go down on one knee...

Oops, not a good image there... or maybe too good an image.

Ok, face Merlin old boy... all it would take is Arthur on a good day, only yelling at me a few times and no time spent in the stocks. Yup, that's all it would take and I'd be doing more than just polishing his bloody sword.

Oh yes, hmmm, let's see, we can polish the sword, play sheath the sword, practise sword play, sword swallowing... always good for kids parties, duelling; the first one who shoots wins.

I think I may have been just a touch hasty there, I'd really like to see if Arthurs scabbard would fit my sword or not.

Maybe I should just head down to the armoury and... stock up on a few cleaning supplies and maybe a few rags, polishing always does seem to make a mess after all.


End file.
